


Death is Easy, Living is the Hard Part

by Wxlves



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Gen, Rex finally gets his goddamn hug, So does anakin, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wxlves/pseuds/Wxlves
Summary: It had been three days since Umbara. Three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-six minutes since the slaughter unlike anything Rex had seen. He was a seasoned soldier, he had been there when most of the Domino Squad died on that satellite base and he’d fought in the GAR’s near-defeat on Geonosis: and yet nothing could have prepared him for the bloodbath of Umbara, the immeasurable consequences of Krell’s betrayal.Three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-six minutes until Rex’s stoic resolve failed him. He could almost pretend the tears running down his face were only the fresher’s lukewarm water if not for the too-familiar ache behind his eyes.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119





	Death is Easy, Living is the Hard Part

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt "survivor’s guilt"
> 
> This fic talks a lot about survivor's guilt, if that could be triggering to you, please proceed with caution!!

Rex was a good soldier, a good leader. In the bloody aftermath of Umbara, he kept it together. For the surviving  _ vod _ , for both the men he led and the General, he kept it together.

Skywalker, he knew, blamed himself for the carnage, just as he blamed himself for every man who died on his watch.  _ Man _ , not clone, because to him they weren’t mass-produced fodder for Seppie guns, but individuals. Rex didn’t know how he and the 501st had gotten so lucky with their  _ jetii, _ the incorrigible,  _ jare'la  _ General Skywalker that clones and jedi padawans alike told tales about: his ferocity, his determination, his foolish bravery.

It had been three days since Umbara. Three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-six minutes since the slaughter unlike anything Rex had seen. He was a seasoned soldier, he had been there when most of the Domino Squad died on that satellite base and he’d fought in the GAR’s near-defeat on Geonosis: and yet  _ nothing  _ could have prepared him for the bloodbath of Umbara, the immeasurable consequences of Krell’s betrayal.

Three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-six minutes until Rex’s stoic resolve failed him. He could almost pretend the tears running down his face were only the fresher’s lukewarm water if not for the too-familiar ache behind his eyes.

He should have challenged Krell earlier, should have put a blaster bolt through that monster’s head the moment he saw him. Every young  _ vod _ knew of Krell’s fatality rates, that an assignment to his legion was a death sentence dressed up as an honor. But good soldiers follow orders and Rex… Rex was not a good soldier. He would raise his guns against the Chancellor if it meant a chance of saving his brothers, his commander, or his general.

Muffled voices in the barracks outside caught his attention, bringing him back to the present. When had he slid to the ground, the metal cold under his bare skin? How long had he been  _ in _ here, water cascading over his shoulders, knees pulled up to his chest? The freshers were empty now, those who weren’t on night watch settling into their bunks. The men who had drawn the short straw were suiting up, judging by the sounds of chatter and clack of plastoid armor being donned.

Rex tuned it all out again.

Some time later a figure appeared on the other side of the curtain, his silhouette backlit by harsh fluorescent lights. “Captain, you alright in there?” Spider, judging by the leftward tilt to his shoulders — a back injury too long neglected. When Rex didn’t answer he spoke again, hesitant, “Sir, at least let me know you’re alive or I’m coming in.”

“I’m alive, Spider, thank you.”

A new voice joined those outside the freshers, lacking the gravelly tone and rolling accent of Rex’s brothers. It said something, received a response, then said something else louder. Spider’s silhouette disappeared for a moment, only to return with a quiet, “It’s the  _ alor, _ sir,” before ducking out again.

_ Alor  _ could be anybody from Cody to Kenobi to the Chancellor himself, but Rex knew damn well exactly who it was in the barracks. Skywalker.

The next time the fresher doors slid open with a soft hiss, it wasn’t Spider coming back. The figure through the curtain was taller than the clones, their build hidden under layers upon layers of clothes. Why the Jedi even bothered with their tunics and robes and sashes, Rex would never understand.

“Rex.” Skywalker’s voice was softer than the captain had ever heard it, underlied with  _ something  _ he couldn’t quite place.

His forearms braced over his knees, Rex only let his head fall back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut against the water that coursed down his face, filling his ears and collecting in what little hair he had. He couldn’t let his  _ Jettii _ see him like this, couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him to shoulder some of his misery. Rex’s failures were his alone.

“Rex,” Skywalker tried again, almost pleading this time.

He hadn’t seen the man since Umbara. In the chaos after that hellscape, Rex had pointedly managed to avoid the General, though the story of Skywalker’s fury when he found out about Krell’s betrayal had spread like wildfire. He hadn’t been there, but Rex had; all those men had been  _ Rex's  _ concern and he’d failed too many of them.

In doing so, he’d failed Skywalker.

With a barely-stifled sigh, Rex staggered to his feet. Skywalker’s silhouette moved as though he’d taken a step backwards.

He turned the fresher off with the usual noisy shuddering of pipes behind the wall and reached for his towel.

When he opened the curtain, towel low on his hips, he found Skywalker’s black-clad figure, surprise written across his face, gaze staying politely, pointedly above Rex’s chest. Even that likely told him all he needed to know, Rex’s emotions hidden behind an impassive mask yet written clearly in the defeated slope of his shoulders and the dark circles beneath his eyes. Skywalker himself looked worse for the wear, eyes glinting with a razor-sharp rage that might have worried Rex, had he the energy. He didn’t know what he expected to hear from Skywalker, once they were finally face-to face, but it was certainly not, “You selfish, karking  _ idiot." _ All he could do was stare before Skywalker moved forward, pulling Rex close, enveloping him in swathes of dark fabric.

Rex was just short enough that his face pressed comfortably into Skywalker’s shoulder, and he summoned up enough humor to mumble into the robes, “Glad to see you too, General.”

Pulling away from the embrace, Skywalker scowled, none of his usual laughter in the lines of his face. “I heard about Krell, I thought you might be  _ dead, _ and then you have the absolute  _ nerve  _ to avoid me for three days?” Before Rex could even consider answering he was tugged close once again.

Rex wasn’t Force sensitive like some of his _vod_ , but he didn’t need mystically heightened senses to know every emotion running under Skywalker’s skin. Guilt, anger, sorrow — everything Rex had been letting wash over his own head like Kamino’s cold, gray waters, wearing at his heart and soul. In this moment, Skywalker—no, Anakin—and Rex understood one another beyond their effortless communication on the battlefield. Rex understood the desperation in Anakin’s leather-clad fingers, digging into his back in a grip that was just shy of painful. Rex understood that the way he clung like an _adiik_ to their _buir,_ hands bunched in Anakin’s robes, was as much a comfort for Anakin as it was for him.

Slowly, as though neither man’s legs could support him, they sunk to the floor, still clutching each other tight. Rex wore only the towel around his waist, currently in danger of slipping from its loose tie, but it made no difference whether he wore his armor or his blacks or he was naked as the day he was, well… not born. To note his barely-dressed state would have meant acknowledging the idea of anything sexual: to call it sexual would have been a discredit to the intimacy of the moment.

Rex privately wondered if Anakin normally reserved baring his emotions in such a way unless with the Senator or, more likely, he simply never let this side of him see the light of day. He was so busy attempting to burrow his way into Anakin’s robes, both offering and accepting comfort, when Anakin spoke.

“It was my fault. I _knew_ about that _womprat's_ mortality rates, yet I still let a piss-poor excuse for a Jedi lead our men into slaughter.”

“Sir…”

“I should have been there to protect them. I should have gone, they should still be  _ alive, _ Rex.”

“All due respect, sir, but—”

“Anakin.”

“Pardon?”

“Not sir.”

The name felt strange on Rex’s tongue, but he obliged. “All due respect, Anakin, but had you gone, you might be dead too.” It was all he could offer to soothe his Jedi’s guilt. He, too, had struggled with self-condemnation, and had no answers of his own. What-ifs were a game for the naïve, he’d tried to tell himself, not seasoned soldiers who accepted their defeats and moved on to the next fight.

But Rex was not a good soldier. He could only hold his  _ Jetii, _ his General, and pray that, at the very least, he’d come out the other side of this war a good man.

**Author's Note:**

> All the Mando'a I used, for your translating ease:  
> Alor — leader, chief, officer, boss  
> Jare’la — stupidly oblivious of danger  
> Adiik — young child  
> Buir — father
> 
> Just call me The CW's Supernatural bc I feel like I straight-up queer-baited y'all with this one. T'was not my intention, and I might be back with some real rexwalker soon


End file.
